When All Hope Is Gone
by SarahhHarkness-Jones
Summary: Arthur is alone, and believes that he cannot continue living in a society that refuses to accept him for who is he. So he's going to jump. Or, that is what he plans on doing, until some Brit called Eames comes into the picture and ruins his precisely organised plan. AU – Arthur and Eames as teenagers, Arthurs POV. Warning: Suicide attempts mentioned.


**Prompt: AU Arthur and Eames.  
****Copyright: I do not own Inception, Arthur or Eames, but hell I wish I did. And I don't own the image either, I just nabbed the first image I could from Google, so I have no idea who owns it. **

**Authors Note: This is my first published Inception fic, but I have a longer one on the go, so I thought I'd post some one-shots before I actually post that, and I'm slightly worried about delving into another fandom here, so be nice. Anddd, I should probably stop getting distracted from my University work.**

I met Eames 15 years ago, and after 15 years I still didn't know his first name. _'Just Eames, darling' _he had said to me, and still that was all I got. We didn't meet in the most conventional of ways, he didn't bump into me at the supermarket. I hadn't admired him from afar and finally got up the courage to speak to him. He most definitely was not the boy next door, although for that I am rather glad, the moving out of my parents' house was awkward enough without only moving less than 10 feet away. We weren't introduced to each other by a mutual friend who thought we'd _'be just perfect for each other'._ We didn't meet at a party. He wasn't a one night stand. He didn't bully me at school then finally come out as being gay and we fell in love, no matter how often that is written about by teenage fangirls.

No, he was the guy who convinced me not to jump.

At the time I had just turned 14, stood on the ledge of the bridge that looked over the river that ran through the town. It was just a few miles from the house that I was living in at the time, we had moved so many times by that age I stopped calling it _home. _It just didn't feel right anyway. No, not home. A real home wouldn't have driven to me stand on that ledge. But that's getting off topic.

I was all ready to jump. A few seconds later, and I would have. My hands were clutching onto the railing, as they had done for the five minutes that I had been staring at the mucky water. The cold, rough metal bar was the only thing keeping me alive. The river was flowing rapidly beneath me, the water splashing against the rocks, the spray hitting my legs. I was about to let go. Everything would have ended, all the pain would have vanished. Everything would have been washed away with the river.

_I would have been washed away with the river. _

All the suffering would have ended, the unwanted-ness and being such a social outcast. The bullying, tormenting, name calling and harassment would have finally stopped. Constantly being told to do exactly what I was about to do by my peers would all stop. _I would finally be at peace. _

That was, of course, until a strong British voice behind me, chuckling rather loudly said, "You won't do it."_  
_  
It startled me slightly, causing my grip to loosen slightly, but not enough to make me fall, and then tighten as I turned to look at the guy who had stopped me from solving all my life's problems. He was gorgeous, dark brown hair that was gelled down into a style that 15 years later he still has, and blue eyes, the colour of the sky on a beautiful summer's day, not the colour of the mucky river that I was about to end my life in.

"And how do you know that?" I had snapped back at him, securing my footing on the ledge so that I was able to properly look at this man.

"Because I have already been there 3 times in this past week, and if I don't have the courage to do it, then you definitely do not." he shrugged, the sun shining off the leather jacket he was wearing. He was skinnier then, hardly any muscles, and his clothes were almost hanging off his body.

"You don't know anything about me." I snapped back, the sun blinding me slightly making me squint to be able to see him.

"Ahh, but that is the thing, I do. You don't feel like you're worth it. You thought you had good friends. Everyone left you. You want to escape, and you think that doing this will sort all of that out, yadda, yadda, yadda. It won't, trust me. I know."

"Can you just leave please? I'm kind of busy right now." I muttered, turning back around to face the river again.

The sun was setting at the time, illuminating the sky, turning it an orangey purple colour. It was beautiful. All kind of ironic really. The sky just so beautiful, as I was about to commit an act so horrible. A beautiful suicide, that is was it would have become.

"Tenner says you don't do it." he challenged, making his way over to the railing, leaning against it and smirking slightly at me. His teeth were showing between his full pink lips, they were crocked, strangely adding to his handsomeness.

"And if I do it, what am I going to do with ten pounds exactly?" I deadpanned, looking over at him with an unamused expression on my face. Really, his logic wasn't the best.

"I'll give it to a charity of your choice." He offered, as if he had already thought about all of this. Maybe he had, maybe he'd watched me standing there, thinking about what he'd say to me before he came over to me. I had never thought about asking that question before. Had he been watching me? I don't know how I feel about that.

"Give it to the Samaritans, maybe then they can get some counsellors that actually help you when you tell them you're about to jump." I was vulnerable and emotional, and on the phone to the counsellor, I was close to hysterical. The poor woman was a newbie, she didn't know what to do, and I had hung up before she had a chance to go ask someone else for some help with me, or put me through to someone else to talk to. Now, I hope that she doesn't feel guilty about it, and she doesn't believe it was her fault, but at the time I wanted her to suffer. I wanted her to _know _that she was the one that had driven me to that ledge, so I had screamed it down the phone to her.

But if it wasn't for her, and her positively useless advice, I wouldn't be where I am today.

"So you tried the Samaritans? They suck, don't listen to them."

"Erm, obviously." I had sighed, motioning to the position I was standing in with my head.

"So what's your name? When I give my Samaritan donation, I don't exactly want to give it on behalf of 'the guy who jumped', that'd just be awkward." he said grabbing a packet of cigarettes from his pocket, taking one out and placing it in his mouth. He offered me the packet, before putting it back in his pocket and retrieved his lighter. I had shook my head in refusal. At the time, I had never so much as touched a cigarette, but apparently I am easily persuaded into doing new things, but only social smoking.

"My name is Arthur." I muttered, as my hands began to hurt slightly from holding onto the railing so tightly. Now, I literally was holding on for my life. Something about this guy was making me question everything. I wanted to continue to talk to him, I no longer was so desperate to jump and end my life. He lit his cigarette as I told him this, and nodded his head slightly.

I don't know why I had told him my real name, I should have given him a fake name. Maybe things would have turned out differently if I had.

"Eames." he smirked, taking a drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke in front of him, the grey smoke dispersing into the air around us, the smell at first to me was vile.

"That'll kill you, you know."

"Isn't that the whole point?" he chuckled, as if it were some kind of inside joke, "Anyway, what do you care?"

"Just want to make sure my Samaritan donation gets made." I smirked at him, the corner of my lips turning up slightly to form a tiny grin, something that I hadn't done in such a long time. It had felt different. I was beginning to feel different. A good kind of different. A scary kind of different.

"It will, don't worry. Anyway, I have to go somewhere, so I'll come back later to see which of us is short ten pounds." He smirked, and leaned forward, grabbing my face in his large, rough hand, pulling it towards him, and gently pressing his lips to mine. I was confused for a moment, and only when I realised what was happening did he pull away, "Goodbye Arthur."

A stranger had taken my first kiss. A guy had just taken my first kiss. Now I'd always known I was bisexual, but I always thought I had just found men attractive and that I'd end up with a woman.

What _should_ have happened was that I would have died happy. I would have died having had my first kiss, from an undoubtedly handsome man. All of my suffering would have ended, and everything would have been exactly how I had wanted it. Dying peacefully, just like I'd planned.

But of course, life isn't as simple as that. Because sometimes, life throws you a handsome Brit, who's presence makes you question everything that you originally believed in. This guy, this stranger at the time, whoever he was, he was making me question absolutely everything. Was killing myself really what I had wanted? Was my life really so awful that I needed to end it?

"Eames!" I shouted, keeping a firm grip on the railing. He came to a stop, slowly turning around, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"Yes?" he called out, removing the cigarette from his mouth.

"Help me over."

You see the scary part of dying, isn't dying itself. But it's dying alone, and no one knowing that you're dead. If I had jumped, then that would have come true. I would have died alone. No one knowing that it had happened, until one day my body washed up on shore. A stranger would have been the last person to see me alive, and my last words to another human being would have been 'Just want to make sure my Samaritan donation gets made'. That definitely wasn't how I pictured dying. I had always wanted to go out with more of a bang than that, and my last words to be a lot more meaningful than a comment on a stupid bet made by someone who I had just met.

"How'd you know I wasn't going to jump?" I asked Eames, as he draped his jacket over my shoulders, my body beginning to shiver slightly due to the cold wind that was beginning to pick up.

"I didn't," he told me, taking another drag. "I was hoping that you wouldn't, but if you did, at least you'd go with a smile on your face." He shrugged his shoulders, blowing out the smoke in front of us. I was beginning to get accustomed to the smell of the smoke.

A few years later, when I asked him again if he knew whether I was going to jump or not, he told me he knew I wouldn't do it. He said he could tell by the way I was looking at him, that I had already fallen for him the moment he kissed me. That of course was Eames' overly arrogant and cocky reply, but it was true. I had fallen for him, despite the fact I'd only just met him. That's the thing with Eames, no matter what he does you will always love him in one way or another.

"So, does this have anything to do with the fact that tomorrow is Valentines Day?" he asked, leaning his head against the bridge's railing, as we sat on the concrete ground.

It was strange to think that the railing we were leaning against I was clinging onto just moments beforehand.

"A little, and the girl who was going to be my date cancelled on me."

Ariadne her name was, I had asked her out on a date to the movies via a note in her locker, and she replied the next day with a note in mine saying yes. We had barely spoken two words to each other the entire school year, but I wanted that to change. She was one of the more popular girls, gorgeous brown hair with hazel brown eyes to match. But she wasn't stuck up popular, she was nerdy popular. Just the kind of girl that I had always dreamed of.

I wanted to know more about her, I wanted to change the fact that we were practically strangers to each other, and so my plan was to change that on a Valentines Date. But apparently Dominic Cobb, the school quarterback, had other plans for me. He told Ariadne that I was gay, a fact that was only half true, and where he had heard that from I did not know. The only person I had ever told was Yusuf, my lab partner, and that was accidental. I knew that he wouldn't have told anyone, like myself he was a social outcast.

Ari immediately took back her yes to a date with me on Valentines Day, her best friend Mal telling me I was disgusting. Although why I expected any less I don't know, after all the town I lived in was incredibly Right Winged and homophobic.

"Right, well come on Arthur," he jumped up, offering his hand out to me, "Tomorrow, you and me are going out on a date."

Eames had saved me from jumping. He had restarted my life for me. He literally was the reason I am still alive today. He gave me a second chance, and a reason to make it right this time.

How do you even _begin _to thank someone for that?

I loved how sure he was of himself, how sure he was of me not being straight. He was a breath of fresh air, something that was desperately needed in my life. He was fun, exciting and dangerous, and he wanted _me_. Even if at the time he only wanted my companionship, it was still something. He still wanted to be with me. He wanted to spend time with me, which at that point in my life, hadn't happened in a very long time.

The next day, Valentines Day, Eames took me out on a date, just like he had promised. He didn't know anything about me, he didn't know how old I was, my full name, where I lived. Absolutely nothing. And I didn't know anything about him. I don't know why I did, but I trusted him. Maybe it was because he knew what it was like to find yourself on that ledge. I finally had someone who knew the sorts of things I was going through, and didn't just pretend like they did.

He told me to meet him on that bridge at 2 in the afternoon, and to dress casually. It had taken me an hour to choose an outfit that day, everything I tried on seemed like I was trying too hard. I didn't need to make a fool of myself by going to see the one good person in my life, whilst I was dressed like an absolute twat.

He took me to a Carnival not far out of town. Despite being with a complete stranger, someone who had stopped me doing exactly what I had wanted to do, it was the greatest day of my 14 years of existence. We went on the rides, spent an unbelievable amount of money in the arcade, he had won me a giant penguin teddy, which to this day still has a special place in my bedroom, and we ate candy floss. It was stupid, that such a little thing like eating candy floss, made that day one of the best days of my life.

He then took me to a small Café that was just a few minutes away from the main Carnival, but far enough away to still be quiet, and then we talked. Well, he talked and I listened. He told me all about himself, his depression, why he had found himself on the ledge 3 times before that week and the fact that he was there at the bridge because he was about to do the exact same thing as me, but I had given him some hope again. Just like he had given me. We had both saved each other, without even realising it.

Eames' life was even more messed up than mine was. At 7 his parents divorced, for the first year of the divorce he lived with his mother, watching countless men call themselves 'Uncle', and pretending to like him in order to impress his mother. Then, after going to court because she no longer wanted him, Eames' mother threw the responsibility over to his father, where he had to move to America at age 10. Until 14 his father abused him, arguing that it was his fault his parents' marriage broke up. He eventually was sent to live with his grandparents, who not surprisingly didn't want him either, so when he was 16 he bought himself a ticket back to England, and lived there on his own until he turned 18 and decided to come back to America due to lack of jobs.

What I found the most awful about his story was that both his parents had numerous other children, all who they loved and cherished dearly. But not Eames. They never loved him.

I could never understand why they didn't though, with such as wonderful caring son as Eames, how could they not love him?

"What's your real name?" I asked him, as he picked up the ketchup bottle and covered his bacon sandwich in it.

"Eames." He replied, looking up at me briefly.

"No, your full name."

"Just Eames, darling." The first time he called me darling my cheeks flushed a bright red, my neck became warm, and I could no longer look him in the eye. Today, my reaction is still pretty similar.

"And yes, before you ask I am gay. But I don't do this for every guy I meet, just the nice ones. The ones who aren't just after sex and nothing else. Do you get me?" he told me, taking a bite out of his sandwich, getting ketchup on the side of his mouth, which he happily licked off, wiggling his eyebrows at me as I stared at his tongue unconsciously.

Eames was crazy. Absolutely, positively crazy. And not in the crazy way that I was, no he was the good kind of crazy.

"By the way, you owe me a tenner." he had grinned at me, his British accent thick.

"We didn't shake on it."

"No, we kissed on it." he smirked at me, taking a huge bite out of his sandwich. Despite the fact he ate like an absolute slob, he still managed to remain attractive.

That was quite possibly the best ten pounds I had ever spent.

"Will you be my boyfriend?" a little while, and another bacon sandwich engulfed by Eames, later he asked.

"We met less than 24 hours ago, how can you ask me that? You know nothing about me. How do you even know I'm gay?"

"You're bi, obviously. You weren't disgusted when I kissed you, you are willingly on a date with me, but you had mentioned a girl who cancelled. Anyway, I know that you have done something that no one before ever has." He told me, as if we were discussing something as trivial as the weather, and not my sexual orientation. Apparently I was more easily figured out than I had originally thought.

"And what is that?" I asked, confused picking up a cold chip from my plate, and nibbling on it.

"You stopped me from climbing over that ledge."

"You don't even know how old I am."

"And? Age is but a number dear," he told me smirking, "I may be 18, but I still act like a child."

"Eames, if you dated me it'd be illegal."

"Why, you're not 10 are you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. I knew he was only kidding, but this was serious. He was an adult.

"Not that young, no. But I am 14, and that makes me still a child"

"And? So there's four years difference between us," he shrugged taking another bite of his sandwich, chewing before he continued to speak, "There was ten years between my parents, and seven between my grandparents."

"You don't just want to date me so that I don't end up on that ledge again do you?"

"Hey, if you want to do that, it's up to you. It's your life, I don't own you. Like you said, we met less than 24 hours ago. However, you do make me smile. And I don't act like this around everyone you know. I just think, if you were my boyfriend, then we'd have to get to know each other, and I won't just be that guy that stopped you from jumping."

"No, you'll be that guy that I lost a tenner to," I chuckled, "Okay, yes then I'll be your boyfriend."

My first boyfriend. My first proper relationship, and it was with a guy who had stopped me from doing something that at the time I thought I had wanted to do. He stopped me from ending my life in a mucky river, by making stupid bet with me. He was the guy who I had only known for 24 hours before I agreed to date.

"Good, because if you had said no then I would have stalked you until you said yes."

15 years later, we celebrated our anniversary, ending it by taking a walk over the bridge that we first met. Neither of us any longer depressed, and both happier than ever before. I moved into Eames' crappy studio apartment after two weeks, he refused to allow me to live in a house where I wasn't accepted, arguing with me that he knew the signs, and that soon enough it would end in domestic violence, and he refused to allow that to happen to me. My parents didn't care, they had other priorities than to see their only son leave their house, and their lives forever. Eames got a job at a movie theatre, I made fun of the uniform for two years, before I got a job in Wal-Mart, and he made fun of my uniform.

We lived off minimum wages for about 5 years, before Eames was promoted to Manager, and I managed to get an office job, that eventually led me on the path to becoming CEO of a major distribution company. We travelled to Spain and married after 7 years together, not wanting a civil partnership, but an actual marriage. After 10 years we adopted our first son, Peter a 5 year old who was abandoned by his mother at birth and had lived in foster homes all his life. Then after 13 years we adopted 2 more children, twin baby girls from Korea, who we fought for a year to get.

Eames wanted a cat, so we eventually ended up with three, not including the litter of kittens we were surprised to one day when we arrived home. Eames cried more that day than he did when we got our daughters. His attachment to cats I will never understand.

Meeting on that bridge undoubtedly changed our lives for the better. 15 years ago when stood on that bridge, I would never in a million years have ever believed that I could have ended up this happy. I would never have believed that I would have met the man I was going to spend the rest of my life with on the bridge I wanted to end my life on.

Everyone has their Guardian Angel, mine just happened to come in the form of a handsome, rather arrogant British man. But I wouldn't ask for anything more than the perfection that I already have.

**Authors Note: This was part of an original story that I wrote (which was originally a heterosexual couple), and I then adapted it into a Torchwood fic, and I then altered it again for Inception. So this piece has been around a bit. And I also now need to go back and rewrite my original piece, because the two rewrites that I have done of it are **_**way**_ **better than my original is. **


End file.
